The Worst Kind of Hero
by Apapazukamori
Summary: Some people aren't meant to be heroes. One shot with an epilogue. Character death.
1. Story

**The Worst Kind of Hero**

Disorientation.

Several voices shouting, can't make them out yet, all of them sound familiar.

Bone-deep fatigue, though Yuuri knows passing out is not a good idea just now. Still, all his movements are so slow.

More shouting; maybe Conrad? The urgency sounds like him.

Too slow to turn. Something hits him hard in the shoulder and sends him sprawling face-first onto the ground. He tries to get up but a heavy weight covers his back. He feels it jerk and he fights the post-power-surge haze tooth and nail. Louder shouting, and maybe a horse? Swords clanging above his head while the weight shifts and moves -- is moved? -- off him.

Yuuri sits up carefully, shaking his head, hoping to finally focus. He rubs the back of his neck and his fingers come away red and sticky. But he's not hurt.

A harsh cough and more frantic yelling coming from all around him. He looks over to one side and sees Murata sitting beside him; facing him. His face is much paler than usual, and his glasses are missing.

"Alright, Shibuya?"

"Aa." Yuuri looks down at his fingers and then up at his friend's face. At his dark uniform jacket, where an even darker stain is spreading out from the left side of his chest.

Murata smiles. "Good."

Yuuri catches him as he pitches sideways and sees the arrow shaft protruding from his back. "M, Murata...?" His heart is beating too fast in his chest, it hurts and he can't breathe.

Dark hair tickles beneath his jaw as Murata rests his forehead on his shoulder. "Looks like I can... do the hero thing too, ne?"

"No..." a whimper and then Yuuri frantically looks around, looking for someone, anyone, to help. "You're not s'posed to be a hero, idiot..." Not the one who had made something of a science out of saving his own skin. That was the one he always knew would be there, because he always kept self-preservation high on his priority list.

Murata laughs and Yuuri feels his arms wrap tightly around his waist. "You made it look so worthwhile... had to give it a try." Yuuri takes hold of the arrow shaft and Murata flinches. "It's barbed," he murmurs. "Don't pull it."

The chaos around them has finally ebbed, though it's hard to tell where the others are. Hoofbeats are thundering in his direction, getting louder, and hope flutters painfully in Yuuri's heart. "I'll go get someone--"

"No." The arms tighten further around his waist. "Stay here?"

"But--"

"Please."

Yuuri's own jacket is getting sticky and damp, now. He can feel the warmth, then the chill, soaking through to his skin. He doesn't know if he can heal this much damage, doesn't know if he should, not with the arrow still inside. But he has to do something. A soft light shines along Murata's back as he summons his healing abilities. Murata's breath hitches after a moment, then Yuuri can hear his faint laugh.

"Stubborn."

"Shut up."

"Killing yourself to save me... kind of negates my heroic act... you know."

Tears sting Yuuri's eyes and he doesn't know if he wants to laugh or hit his friend. He does the first and saves the other for later. There will be a later, after all. "The last thing I need is another one of those."

The hoofbeats get louder and louder, and he feels Murata sigh against his neck. "Not enough time..."

"No!"

Murata's weight is getting heavier against him, and the grip around his waist weakens. "You'll... do fine, Shibuya... I always knew... you would."

"Murata!" Yuuri pulls away from his friend, holding him up by the shoulders as he shouts into his near-translucent face. "Don't you _dare_."

Murata smiles at him, heavy-lidded eyes full of a mix of calm and sympathy. His friend leans in close to brush a kiss over his cheek.

"Sorry, Shibuya."


	2. Epilogue

**The Worst Kind of Hero**

**Epilogue**

Yuuri mounts the steps to the Shinou's temple slowly, feet heavy and heart heavier. The others have offered to come with him, but he won't let them. Not even Conrad. He doesn't want them there. Not when he has to face the Shinou's ghost and explain why he's returned alone, bearing news of a permanent lunar eclipse.

Conrad told him about it on the way home. When Yuuri had refused to change his clothes and had nearly screamed himself hoarse ordering someone to find Murata's lost glasses. He still has no idea who actually found them, but Conrad put them in his bloodstained hand and told him a story.

It's not fair. No one is supposed to _die_. Not Huber, not Conrad, not Wolfram. Even the Shinou is still alive, sort of. At least, he's still with them. Yuuri wants to help people. That's his job.

The Maiden guards open the doors for him, unusually somber, even for them. That's his first clue that they know something is wrong. His second comes in the failure of Ulrike to meet him in the Inner Sanctum as she usually does. But he doesn't ask where she is. The only thing he can imagine that would be worse than seeing the Shinou would be seeing the little priestess in tears.

He's seen enough tears, but hasn't shed any himself.

He's starting to wonder if there's something wrong with him. He's lost his best friend. It'd be okay to cry, right? He should be grateful that Murata saved his life. He can't. He's not. He's angry enough that if his friend had survived, he would have beat the shit out of him (only after recovering, though).

The anger is probably pretty obvious, and he knows the others don't approve. He doesn't really care.

Walking into the temple's innermost room and not seeing Murata sitting on one of the boxes throws Yuuri for a loop. The Shinou stands in front of the remaining three, his face unreadable. The doors close behind Yuuri and only then does he start up the aisle with a growing lump in his throat. As the distance between founder and heir closes, Yuuri can see a deep, deep sadness in the ghost's eyes. The guilt settles a little more heavily on Yuuri's shoulders.

"Shinou..."

The ghost raises a hand and shakes his head. "It's all right," he says gently. "I am aware of what has happened. Ulrike and I felt it when it did."

Yuuri swallows, eyes burning but still infuriatingly dry. "I'm sorry."

"Will you tell me of it?"

He does, though his story is interrupted more than once by his own running commentary on what an idiot his friend was. He stares at his feet during the whole retelling; when he's finished, he risks a glance up and sees a grief-stricken smile on the ghost's face that still manages to also seem fond. "Ah, my Sage..." the ghost whispers. "Ever putting the greater good above yourself."

Yuuri shakes his head violently. "It'd be better if he was still _here_."

No words can properly describe the level of sadness that flits across the Shinou's expression. "I wonder about that..."

A faint presence registers in the back of Yuuri's mind, making him stiffen and hold his breath. When it becomes too hard to hold, he lets it out in stuttering half-breaths. Yuuri is nothing if not ever hopeful. "Is... is he?"

"In a way."

The presence is familiar but the voice isn't. Nor the long, straight black hair or the ancient style of dress. Not even the eyes are the same, though they're closer than the rest. Yuuri feels his heart break.

"Greetings, Your Majesty, Yuuri."

The Sage has remained.

Murata, his friend, is gone.

Yuuri turns on his heel and flees the room as fast as his legs will carry him. Out past the priestesses, past the Maiden guards, into the courtyard and nearly out of it before a red-orange and khaki-colored blur catches him up and holds him off his feet. "Whoa, whoa, kiddo..." Yozak holds on tightly, and Yuuri eventually gives up snarling and cursing and fighting. Conrad, Wolfram and Gunter are all nearby, keeping their distance, and Yozak moves to do the same once Yuuri's legs give out.

"There are two ghosts in the temple," he croaks. Yozak's footsteps stop dead, less than an arm's reach away.

"Is he...?"

Yuuri laughs weakly and the movement stirs the salt-tracks on his cheeks. New ones pour over, followed by more. "The Great Sage's back in Shin Makoku."

It isn't fair.


End file.
